


burning through these yellow lights

by dj jiggle juice (therestisconfetti)



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Minor Aubrey, very very vague mention of Staubrey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 05:00:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13674756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therestisconfetti/pseuds/dj%20jiggle%20juice
Summary: Home, Beca thinks as she hears Chloe’s breathing even out.Chloe is home.





	burning through these yellow lights

**Author's Note:**

> the entirety of this fic was inspired (and based on) the song yellow lights by harry hudson. if you haven't listened, please do. it's beautifully painful.
> 
> *this story follows the pp3 timeline

If Chloe Beale was a color, it would be yellow.

Beca’s never met someone with such a vibrant and bubbly personality. If she’s being honest, the first time she encountered Chloe, she didn’t think it was possible for someone to be so genuinely _nice._ But that’s exactly what Chloe was - and still is.

She’s sunshine, the warmth and brightness almost blinding at times.

And for Beca Mitchell, it’s scary.

It’s scary because if Beca was a color she’d be blue. Not that pretty sky blue, but the dark navy blue. She’s used to being on her own. She didn’t have many friends growing up; her father left her and married that _step-monster,_ and relationships - well, there really weren’t any until Jesse.

(Not like that turned out great, anyway.)

So being alone was something she’d been accustomed to. It was easier to keep people out rather than let them in and allow disappointment and sadness to follow.

Then Chloe Beale came in, with no sense of personal space or boundaries - two of Beca’s favorite things right below heavy sarcasm - and chipped through every goddamn wall Beca had ever put in place.

And for some reason that Beca will never quite understand, she allowed it. Not without trying to stop it at first, but she _did_ allow it.

For God’s sake, she shares a _bed_ with Chloe in a tiny Brooklyn apartment they’ve been sharing for three years with Amy.

With Chloe, everything’s always been _different._ When they all lived in the Bella house, Beca would make a point to run away from Stacie when she tried to initiate any sort of physical contact. Meanwhile, Chloe would come to Beca’s bedroom uninvited, get comfortable under the covers, and cuddle with her as they watched whatever movie Chloe had ready for them.

Beca could never put a finger on it, not while she was at Barden - and certainly _not_ while she was preoccupied with Jesse Swanson - but three _more_ years of Chloe Beale and something had finally dawned on her.

It’s not as if she woke up one day and it all came into her in a dream or some shit.

No, it’s much quieter than that.

It’s a late Sunday afternoon in which Amy is nowhere to be found and Chloe is in the kitchen, making herself a cup of tea - because Chloe’s a tea person while Beca’s all coffee - and Beca is in the middle of working on a mix that she’s been playing with in her head all week when she looks up, taking a break from the aggressive lights of her laptop.

She blinks a few times before her eyes adjust to the sudden change of lighting. It’s dimmer than she remembers now, with only the natural light from the windows lighting their tiny home. The sun is beginning to go down and Beca knows they don’t have much time before it’s so dark they’ll need to turn a light on, but she pauses for a moment when her eyes land on Chloe and something inside of her stills.

The redhead is pouring honey into her freshly brewed tea, and the way she stands has the sunlight illuminating her face giving her a warm glow. As she pours the honey, she’s singing under her breath, melodic and soft like Beca’s heard many times before throughout various times of day.

And Beca realizes, here in this moment, this is home.

Home is Chloe’s lips immediately turning up when she sees Beca after a long day, whether it be a long day of classes at Barden or a long day of vet clinic in Brooklyn. Home is Chloe jumping into bed and tugging Beca into her side before settling on which movie or show to watch for the night. Home is the genuine way Chloe wants to hear about her day no matter how boring or terrible it may be. Home is Beca waking up to Chloe singing in the shower, cup of coffee waiting for her in the kitchen. Home is being wrapped up in Chloe at night and pretending she isn’t awake when Chloe wakes up. Home is getting a little too wine drunk and singing before bursting into fits of laughter and understanding only red hair and big blue eyes.

Home is this moment right now, where Chloe is making afternoon tea while she sings under her breath and Beca is sat on the bed working on her newest mix.

Everything that’s involved Chloe before this moment has been chalked up to _it’s Chloe, nothing’s ever normal with her._

The Bellas had made their not-so-subtle jokes over the years, especially after moving into the Bella house, but Beca had always rolled her eyes because she’d always had Jesse.

But Jesse has never made her feel like this.

She’s heard the expression “home is where the heart is,” and none of it has made sense to her until Chloe feels her gaze and looks up from stirring her tea.

“Why are you staring at me?” she asks, a lopsided smile on her face.

Beca blinks. “Um,” she stutters, trying to keep the flush from spreading on her cheeks.

Chloe finds it amusing, quirking an eyebrow at the brunette as she waits for an answer.

“You had something on your face, like a fly or something,” she says lamely before adding, “but, um, it’s gone now.”

“And you weren’t going to tell me?” Chloe gasps, but she grins a moment later.

“Sorry,” Beca sheepishly smiles back.

If Chloe notices Beca’s weird behavior, she doesn’t say anything. She simply laughs and continues to stir her tea in the kitchen.

Beca hits the play button on her mix and lowers her eyes because she’s come to a major understanding of Chloe Beale’s place in her life and she doesn’t know what to do with herself.

 

* * *

 

Beca hates feelings.

She just doesn’t _do_ emotions, not like most people do. She supposes it comes from being left behind by her father all those years ago. Coming into college she figured she’d been able to shut them off enough to keep her head down and get through one stupid year, but Chloe Beale and the rest of the Bellas somehow wormed their ways into Beca’s heart, making her a little less sarcastic and a little more caring.

She hates it.

(Not really.)

Sometimes she thinks she can shut them off again.

Tragically, this is not one of those times.

It’s been approximately three weeks since she’s realized Chloe Beale is much more than her best friend, more than anyone has ever been to her. She won’t say the words she knows are true, not out loud and not even in her head because quite frankly it scares her.

She doesn’t think Chloe’s picked up on it, at least. She’s tried her very best to be normal around Chloe despite this huge concept floating inside of her head almost all the time. She’s always been awkward around people though, so Chloe hasn’t said a word.

Fat Amy sometimes lets her gaze linger on Beca a moment longer than necessary when there’s something that seems slightly off with the brunette. Beca avoids having any sort of serious conversation with her to prevent an onslaught of questions.

Being with the rest of the girls is easier somehow. Beca isn’t sure what it is. Maybe it’s the fact that with the girls, there’s just a dynamic between the lot of them that’s never going to break. Maybe it’s the fact they all talk and screech and laugh over each other that it leaves no room for awkward silences or moments to ponder. Maybe it’s the fact she’s hardly alone so there’s no time to sit and reflect and remember that she _feels things very deeply_ for her best friend. Maybe it’s the fact that she and Chloe - and now also Aubrey - have to be in sync and work off of each other at all times to herd around this group of nerds without causing too much of a scene.

Maybe it’s all of those things.

Whatever it is, Beca welcomes it quickly.

 

She’s missed this, though. She’s missed the sporadic harmonizing, the jokes always said with love, Emily’s endless optimism, Flo’s strange and mildly concerning comments about her past, and yeah, she even misses the strange and borderline psychotic whispers that come out of Lilly’s mouth.

(Perhaps she’s even missed Jessica and Ashley - whichever one is which, because Beca still can’t tell - being attached at the hip.)

Most of all, she’s missed the commotion that comes with ten girls in the same room and being able to find vibrantly blue eyes across the room and sharing a smile, wondering how she’s so lucky to be lumped with these group of nerds.

For someone who has walls, they seem nonexistent when she’s with the Bellas.

She’s jobless, but she’s in Europe with her favorite group of idiots.

And Chloe.

There are things on the tip of her tongue; Beca’s never been good at words but she swears for Chloe Beale she’ll try. She doesn’t know what to say or how to say it, but she’s afraid she might combust if she doesn’t.

She thinks about these things as they sit on the plane together, long after they take off and Beca’s episode of anxiety and slight nausea has passed with Chloe squeezing her hand and gently rubbing her back. The dim cabin lights have a yellow glow, highlighted with Chloe’s window being half-open.

(Because Chloe always takes the window seat, _always._ )

For a moment, Beca considers tugging Chloe’s earphone out and telling her she has something to say because even with her hair up and slight exhaustion from making sure everyone was able to get on this plane without incident, Chloe is still the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen.

But her contemplation is quickly interrupted when she hears loud laughter two rows back and turns to see Emily peering over the rows with an apologetic smile in her direction.

Beca gives her a small smile back before turning back into her seat with a sigh.

She can’t have this conversation on a long flight with Chloe when they have to sit together the rest of the way even if Chloe doesn’t feel the same way and the Bellas are scattered throughout this flight.

She’ll wait.

 

* * *

 

Beca decides she hates men in uniform.

She decides this within approximately two minutes of spotting Ken Doll-G.I. Joe hybrid and seeing the way the Bellas - Chloe included - fawn over him.

“What Beca?” Aubrey asks, and without even facing her Beca can hear the smirk. “Don’t like what you see?”

Beca’s jaw sets. “Not my type, that’s all.”

Aubrey clicks her tongue. “Obviously.”

The brunette whips her head to glare at Aubrey. “What’s that supposed to mean, Posen?”

But G.I. Joe wannabe starts talking and all Beca gets in response is a stupidly annoying smirk and shrug in response as Aubrey turns to give her full attention to the man.

Whatever. It’s not like Aubrey hasn’t had a secret crush on Stacie this whole damn time.

(Not that it’s confirmed, but Beca has a theory.

Chloe has seconded said theory.)

Beca is close to ripping her eyeballs out when she’s forced to watch Chloe turn into some idiot girl who bats her eyelashes way too much and twirls her hair around her finger when she talks to the military Ken Doll (his name is Chicago, but Beca thinks that’s a stupid name).

She’s seen Chloe in action with guys and girls alike over the years, but she has _never_ seen anything quite like this.

It’s almost repulsive.

Fat Amy leans over and murmurs, “I know Chloe’s known for her sunshine-like attitude, but at this point it’s like she’s shooting sunshine out of her ass - and not the good kind.”

Beca would laugh if she wasn’t so irritated. Chloe’s better than this.

Chicago doesn’t seem to mind it at all, and it further irritates Beca when Chloe doesn’t walk with her, but instead races to catch up with _him._ Aubrey’s quick to follow and Beca can only let out a loud groan.

“Are you okay?”

Beca looks up to find Emily peering down at her with a concerned expression. The kid’s concern makes her soften, but not by much.

“I’m fine,” she mutters, crossing her arms like a child.

So maybe she gets too close to Aubrey when she cuts her off during their riff-off, and maybe she does grind a little too excessively with Cynthia Rose, but it doesn’t seem like _Chloe_ cares at all.

At least, not from what Beca can tell.

(But not even an hour later, she’s sitting next to Chloe on Aubrey’s bed with the rest of the Bellas and discussing which chocolates they do and don’t like, and Beca can’t help but grin like an idiot when Chloe feeds her a piece because Chloe is still _her Chloe_ and Chicago’s got no shot understanding the redhead like she does.

The fluttering in her stomach continues.)

 

* * *

 

Theo’s a weirdo, Beca decides rather quickly.

He also reminds her of Jesse, who was also a weirdo.

 _God_ does she attract weirdos? Is that her thing? Gross.

She hardly gives him the time of day when he’s around because _no thank you_ she’s not interested in dating someone who looks like a turtle and has an air of obliviousness to him. She has her eyes fixed on someone else, thank you very much.

But that said someone else spends seventy percent of her time going all heart-eyed and girlish around a stupid military dude who doesn’t even know the first thing about Chloe.

It makes Beca wonder if she’s put things together too late.

Was it stupid of her to think Chloe would wait forever for her?

She would’ve never asked Chloe to, but was it stupid to think she could’ve had as much time as she needed to figure it out?

Chloe’s patient, but she’s not _that_ patient.

She’s never pushed Beca into making a decision she hasn’t been ready to make, but…

God, Beca’s stomach lurches at the thought of Chloe being with someone else.

But Chloe grabs her boobs and seems completely unbothered by it, not even claiming it was an accident, and Beca’s head starts spinning.

That has to mean _something,_ right? Best friends don’t just casually grab and inspect each other’s boobs.

(Chloe’s always been different, though.)

So when Theo lets her play with DJ Khaled’s very expensive equipment, the first song that pops into her head is the one she heard Chloe singing the other morning while they were packing for their trip.

It had been early enough for Beca to still be slightly grumpy even as she sipped her morning coffee, and she emerges from the bathroom asking, “Why on earth are you singing George Michael?”

“He was on my Throwback Thursday playlist this week!” Chloe tells her cheerfully, reaching into the cupboard and grabbing her yellow cup that Beca has ingrained in her memory.

“Ah,” Beca nods in understanding, marching over to her drawers as she ponders what the hell she’s supposed to bring to Europe.

“It was his coming out song,” the redhead added enthusiastically, pouring herself orange juice.

Beca clears her throat. “That’s some…good information.”

She’d never, like, come out to anyone or anything, but she’s not straight. She knows that much. All her friends caught on her senior year when that physically flawless German goddess had her tongue tied with every interaction. They didn’t ask her, but they all _knew._

(She’s glad they hadn’t forced her to, you know, say anything about it.)

But with the way Chloe has her mind running laps, it’s the possible harmonies of that song Beca plays with as the rest of the Bellas set the room on fire.

That night when they’re all back at the hotel, embarrassed and disheartened, Beca’s laying wide awake in her bed. She can’t sleep for whatever stupid reason she can’t quite name and all she hears in her head is the damn song she’d been messing with earlier.

Her door creaks open and she immediately flies up into a sitting position wondering if she’s about to be murdered when she recognizes the silhouette of none other than Chloe Beale.

“What are you doing here?” Beca asks in a tired voice.

Chloe closes the door behind her and slowly makes her way to the bed. “I can’t sleep,” she says simply before slipping under the covers.

“Oh,” the brunette nods. She watches as Chloe gets comfortable underneath the sheets and slowly melts back under the covers to join her.

“It’s hard to sleep without you,” Chloe whispers, her voice honest and raw.

Beca’s eyes widen in the dark and there are a thousand emotions swirling inside of her as the understanding of why _she_ couldn’t sleep either washes over her.

“I couldn’t sleep either,” she admits in a small voice.

Chloe only makes a humming noise before pulling Beca into her. “G’night.”

 _Home,_ Beca thinks as she hears Chloe’s breathing even out.

Chloe is home.

 

* * *

 

When Beca notices an absence of Chloe Beale at dinner, she worries.

Up until now, Chloe’s been soaking up every experience she can get of Europe. When she asks the girls while they eat, they each shrug.

A frown tugs at Aubrey’s lips as she says, “She’s been in her room all evening. I tried to get her to come to dinner, but she said she wanted to stay in her room.”

So Beca goes up to Chloe’s room, quietly entering to find Chloe laying on top of her covers with headphones in and a blank stare up at the ceiling.

“Hey,” she greets with a small smile.

Chloe lifts her head up to see Beca and takes her headphones off and gives her a watery smile. “Hey you,” she replies.

Beca lets out a soft sigh, coming to sit on the other side of the bed. She knows this Chloe. This Chloe isn’t sunshine and happiness. It’s one of those rare moments that something’s bothering her to the extent that she can’t push through it with a cheery disposition. Seven years of living with Chloe and being her best friend has taught Beca to see through Chloe’s initial smiles, to see past the forced happiness that she sometimes turns on like a charm.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, eyes filled with concern. “Aubrey said you didn’t even want to come down for dinner.”

For a moment, it looks like Chloe’s about to shake her head and insist she’s okay, but one look at Beca and she quickly decides otherwise.

Instead, she scoots over towards Beca and quickly hooks her arms around her waist. Her head digs into the brunette’s shoulder and she sinks into the younger one. Beca leans back against the pillows propped up on the headboard in attempts to keep her balance. She wraps her arms around Chloe without hesitation, resting her cheek on top of Chloe’s head and rubbing her back in a circular motion.

Chloe doesn’t say anything.

Beca doesn’t ask her to.

She just knows; Chloe needs a moment of comfort and Beca is more than willing to give it to her.

It’s a moment like this that has Beca’s words all jumbled in her throat. Chloe wears her heart on her sleeve, but she doesn’t show this side to just anyone. Beca’s seen a side of her best friend she’s not quite sure many other people have witnessed.

The way Chloe holds her makes all those words want to tumble out.

The intimacy and vulnerability of this moment almost make her want to let the words fall out of her mouth and hang in the air.

Almost.

Not quite.

Somehow, she pushes it back. This isn’t the time; she can’t say these things when Chloe is in this state.

So instead, she continues to rub her back and wait for Chloe to speak because if she opens her mouth, she knows what will come next.

(Chloe tells her she hasn’t heard from any vet schools yet.

Beca tells her they’re all idiots if they don’t accept her.

It gets a giggle out of the redhead and Beca knows she’s got a little bit her of sunshine back in her.)

 

* * *

 

When Beca had gotten off the plane in Spain, she had figured she could maybe possibly say all the _things_ she had been thinking to Chloe at some point on this trip.

As the trip continues, Beca’s not so sure.

Chloe Beale has an innate ability to light up every aspect of Beca’s life without even trying. She’s just _Chloe,_ and where Beca sees blues, Chloe sees yellows. Mornings are terrible, but they’re less terrible when there’s a redhead humming softly around the apartment as she begins her day. Movies suck, but not when Chloe’s making a game out of who can point out the most stupid scenes. Seeing her dad and step mother is stupid, but they love Chloe so Beca always let her come to the stupid weekly dinners her dad _insisted_ they did during Beca’s time at Barden.

But now Beca’s seeing less yellows and more blues again.

Whenever Chicago is around, there’s an empty space next to Beca where she _should_ be. The space is often filled by Emily or Aubrey or Amy, but Chloe is unaware, seemingly glued to Chicago’s attention and presence.

It makes Beca a little sick and a lot sad.

If Emily notices, she doesn’t say anything.

Amy catches on after far too long and then immediately begins to make mean jokes about Chicago.

(Beca laughs and shoots her a smile, grateful that her other best friend is able to understand without her having to say it out loud.)

Aubrey eyes Beca carefully and sometimes makes offhand comments. Beca can’t tell if she’s doing it to elicit some sort of reaction or just to be a bitch, but she’s snappy in her responses.

“She’s been spending a lot of time with him,” Aubrey mentions one day.

Beca tries to keep her cool. “Chloe’s allowed to have other friends.”

Aubrey raises her eyebrows. “Yeah, _friends._ If that’s what you want to call that flirt fest.”

“Isn’t that what you call every interaction you have with Stacie?” Beca smirks.

It gets a scoff out of the blonde. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Beca’s gonna pretend she didn’t walk by Aubrey’s room yesterday and hear her talking to Stacie on FaceTime. She’ll consider it her act of kindness for the day.

“Sure you don’t,” Beca over dramatically winks at her.

Aubrey only gives her the satisfaction of an eye roll and a moment of silence sits between them.

Beca can’t help but ask, “Do you think he’s good enough for her?”

The older woman seems to recognize the seriousness of the question at hand, twisting her lips slightly as she watches Chicago and Chloe a few feet in front of them.

“I think,” she starts, eyes landing on Beca. “that Chicago is a distraction…from what Chloe really wants.”

Beca’s eyebrows knit together. She’s never really been that good at reading between the lines, but she knows that Aubrey’s trying to tell her something. They’ve never been the best of friends, but things change and their relationship is one of those things.

“What are you trying to-“

She’s cut off by Emily squealing about some cute little coffee shop and turning to Beca and Aubrey with big eyes and asking if they can stop and hang out for a little bit.

They agree quickly, figuring they can take a break from walking around, but Beca knows the conversation is over and she won’t get her answer.

The thoughts linger for the rest of the afternoon.

 

* * *

 

Beca wakes up to the sound of an alarm she knows all too well.

Unlike normal people who just leave whatever pre-set alarm noise as their alarm, Chloe Beale has hers set to _It’s a Beautiful Morning!_ on loop. It’s come to the point where Beca doesn’t even bother saying anything about it because Chloe’s set on leaving it that way and Beca isn’t gonna take her joy away.

She does let out a groan though, digging her head deeper into the pillow and tugging the blankets tighter. Chloe lets out a soft sigh behind her, her fingers running along the exposed skin of Beca’s side.

Beca sharply inhales at the motion.

Well, she’s definitely awake now.

“Last official performance today,” she mumbles, eyes still closed with her back to Chloe.

“Yeah, last one,” Chloe echoes behind her.

Beca senses the sadness in her voice and slowly turns around, blinking a few times as her eyes open. The early morning sunlight is coming in harshly through Chloe’s windows, emitting sunlight against the walls, and coincidentally, half of Chloe’s face.

(God, Beca’s so happy she wakes up to this every morning.)

Chloe offers her a small smile when she’s situated.

“I didn’t think we’d get a chance to perform like this again,” she admits. “Much less go to Europe again.”

Chloe laughs, there’s a slight scratch in her voice from just waking up but the sound still warms Beca’s heart regardless. “Yeah, me either.”

“At least we get to go out with a bang,” Beca grins. “It’s been nice to pretend the real world doesn’t exist.”

The real world, where Beca quit her job and is currently jobless. Oh yes.

Chloe nods in agreement. “Definitely better than the real world.”

Beca hums as Chloe plays with the strands of her hair. Another common occurrence with Chloe Beale.

“Have you heard from any vet schools yet?”

Chloe pauses for a moment. “I haven’t checked. I want to wait until after.”

Beca nods in understanding. “You’re totally getting in,” she insists. “You’re Chloe freakin’ Beale.”

At this, Chloe smiles at her and Beca swears that the redhead reserves this special smile for her because she hasn’t seen her give anybody - even Aubrey - the look she’s getting right now. It sends Beca’s insides turning with every breath she takes and once again she’s afraid all the words are going to tumble out of her right now.

“You’re my favorite,” Chloe tells her.

As she inhales, Beca’s afraid her exhale might come with all the words she’s been dying to say. But she remembers the way Chloe’s been all about _Chicago_ lately.

She settles on, “You’re mine, too.”

It seems like enough when Chloe smiles Beca’s special smile again, but her heart’s heavy because she feels like she’s running out of time.

How much longer before her bed is empty and Chloe is in someone else’s arms?

How much longer until that smile isn’t just for Beca anymore?

Beca thinks she’ll start seeing blue everywhere, then.

 

* * *

 

As she walks away from DJ Khaled and Theo, throat feeling thick and tears pricking her eyes, her first thought is to tell Chloe.

She pulls out her phone and begins to swipe through her contacts, but she stops herself.

No. She _can’t_ tell Chloe.

Chloe would be absolutely crushed. She remembers Chloe’s face in the Dean’s office a little over three years ago, how her expression completely fell when they were stripped of their title and suspended.

Beca isn’t sure she could handle watching her best friend’s heart break when she tells her that the Bellas haven’t been chosen. _How_ could she even start that conversation with her?

(She knows Chloe would be supportive of her, but she also knows how much Chloe believes they’re going to win it.

She can’t do that to her. Maybe it’s better that Chloe doesn’t know.)

So instead, Beca aimlessly wanders around for a few hours. She knows the gravity of the opportunity that’s landed in her lap. She _knows_ saying yes will probably mean she gets to move to Los Angeles and do what she wants to do the most.

So maybe she’s crazy for saying no.

But she can’t turn her back on the Bellas, not even for a minute. Not after everything they’ve been through.

When she finally returns to the hotel and meanders down the hall towards her bedroom, she sees the door to Fat Amy’s room isn’t all the way closed.

Amy can definitely handle this, she figures.

So she opens the door and hopes the Australian can make sense of this mess she’s found herself in.

 

* * *

 

What. The. Fuck.

Beca can barely breathe. Part of her feels like this is a dream. A really, really fucked up dream. There’s no way this is her life, but yet here she is, sneaking onto a yacht that Amy’s crazy father owns and has used to kidnap all their friends. Maybe if she acts like this _is_ a dream and she’s not seriously about to die she can get through this.

Maybe.

She creeps up onto the deck, almost breathing a sigh of relief when she sees the rest of the girls sitting together - untied and unharmed, when she sees _Chloe_ sitting there untied and unharmed.

And it’s not like she cares any _less_ about the other Bellas, because she doesn’t.

It’s just that somehow Chloe’s always been _different_ , and quite honestly Chloe embodies everything Beca knows and understands as _home._

She can’t see herself living life without Chloe Beale.

So when Chloe whips her head around to look at her, Beca almost forgets how to breathe for a moment. Her eyes are so wide and blue, and Beca knows she’s trying to hold back tears. She knows Chloe’s trying to hold it all together despite being on the verge of death.

With every note she sings her heart beats a little louder.

There are so many things she wants to say to Chloe, so many thoughts she’s dying to share.

But this isn’t the time for that. Beca knows she probably couldn’t even get the words out if she tried.

So instead with every glance they share, she can only hope to convey everything in her eyes.

_Whatever happens, we’re okay. I won’t let anything happen to you._

She hopes Chloe understands.

(Beca thinks she does when the first person to reach out to her as soon as she hits the water is Chloe.)

 

* * *

 

Chloe’s going to vet school, Beca’s signing with DJ Khaled, and everything seems to be falling into place.

Well, almost everything.

Chloe’s going to vet school.

Beca’s signing with DJ Khaled.

As in, they’re starting new chapters of their lives and it probably means one of them if not both of them will be moving out and starting a new life.

Without the other.

Chloe will be living life without her. She’ll find other people’s personal spaces to invade, continue to make strangers smile, sing in the shower with no one else to listen to her, and all of it makes Beca kind of sad.

She’s afraid she might start seeing blues again a lot sooner than she thought.

Theo asks her if she has any suggestions for the song she wants to perform.

Beca knows just the one.

 

* * *

 

When she begins to panic only a couple of hours away from her performance, Chloe is the one who barges into her room because somehow she just _knows_ that Beca is a mess.

She’s all smiles until she sees the way Beca won’t stop fidgeting and her smile comes more as a grimace.

Immediately, she’s sitting the brunette down, taking her hands into her own and letting her thumb run along the backs of them. Somehow, the simple action makes Beca relax immensely.

In a quiet voice Chloe asks, “Is it because you have to do this alone? Without us?”

Somehow, Chloe always knows.

It’s a simple question, but to Beca it speaks magnitudes. Because for all her bark and bite, for all the things she’s accomplished with the Bellas and the solos she’s sung - she hasn’t had a solo performance since Chloe caught her eye from the side of the stage all those years ago and announced that there was one more audition.

Right now, Beca feels a lot like she did then: small, alone, and slightly terrified of the eyes that will be on her.

(Back then, it was mainly Aubrey and her immediate dislike for Beca.

Now, it’s basically the whole world.)

But the one thing that kept her steady?

Blue eyes and a nod of encouragement.

She had kept her eyes trained on that yellow cup the whole time then, but those images seared her mind as she sang.

That was Beca’s first look at sunshine, at yellows, at endlessly cheery dispositions.

It comforts her, both back then and right now.

“We’re going to be right there in the front row,” Chloe reminds her, bringing Beca back to the present. “Just don’t flash your vagina at the crowd. I don’t think you should debut yourself like that.”

Beca lets out a soft laugh at the comment, and she recognizes the way Chloe’s features soften at the way she isn’t as panicked as she was before.

“America hated us for so long,” she recalls with a small smile.

Chloe only shrugs, squeezing both of Beca’s hands that are grasped in her own. “Yeah, but I know Europe will love you. The whole world will.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I know you,” the redhead explains, lacing her fingers in between Beca’s. “And I know what you’re capable of. It’s impossible not to love you.”

At Chloe’s words, a question forms in Beca’s throat. It’s bubbling on the surface, ready to burst into the air. She meets Chloe’s gaze and her chest swells the way it’s done a lot around her best friend lately. If she’s so convinced the world will love her, then Beca just has to know…

_Do you love me?_

“You’re my favorite,” Beca tells her instead, voice small and a little strained.

She can’t do this, not right now.

Chloe grins. “You’re my favorite, too.”

 

* * *

 

The crowd absolutely terrifies her at first.

This is bigger than nationals, and honestly, Beca thinks this could be bigger than the World Championships.

Her anxiety level is probably somewhere around the level of where it was when they were at the Kennedy Center.

But even in the crowd she finds those bright blue eyes and that special just-for-Beca smile. She’s even more at ease when she sees the rest of them in the same row, all giving her encouraging grins.

Yeah, she loves these awesome nerds.

She also loves the way they’re all varying levels of surprised and excited they all express when she brings them on stage.

And as she sings the words of George Michael’s coming out song, she hopes Chloe gets it. She keeps looking at the redhead and everyone’s hugging and crying and this is a big moment, but Beca hopes she understands.

She’s never been good at words or feelings, but Beca will try anything for Chloe Beale.

When Chloe scoops her up in her arms as the crowd roars its approval, all Beca sees is yellow lights.

In Chloe’s arms, she’s home.

 

* * *

 

She’s gonna do it.

The adrenaline kick she gets from performing is still pumping through her system even after she walks backstage.

Her eyes follow Chloe the whole time, watching as the redhead and the cluster of Bellas giddily talk and squeal over each other ahead of her.

She’s about to make a beeline for Chloe when Theo manages to worm his way into her view.

“Um hi,” she says distractedly, trying to look past his face to keep her sights on Chloe.

“Hey,” he replies, her uninterest completely going over his head. “You killed it out there, you know.”

Beca watches as the Bellas begin to disperse, clusters of them exiting the area. She’s itching to get to the redhead, to pull her aside and say what’s been bubbling up in her throat for what seems like so long now, but Theo doesn’t seem to sense her urgency.

“Thanks,” she mutters, eyes still on red hair and not at all on the man in front of her.

“Beca,” he says her name with laughter, placing both his hands on either arm to steady her. “Enjoy the moment for a second, will you?”

The physical contact makes Beca stiffen, eyes snapping to the offender. Theo is looking at her with a big smile and eyebrows raised, obviously excited.

She knows he’s been pining over her this whole trip. She knows because he tried to hold her hand once or twice, and because he pops out of nowhere every goddamn time.

He’s a good guy; he really is, but his weirdo vibes remind her of Jesse and it’s taken her this long to figure out that she and Jesse were never _really_ a good fit. He’d always been there, waiting for her to come around.

He was convenient and the safe option.

Beca’s done living with complacency.

Her eyes peer around Theo once again and a small panic sets in because she can’t find Chloe. Actually, all the Bellas have disappeared from the area.

“Yeah it was amazing,” she tells Theo as she lightly pushes his hands away. “But I..I have to find…”

She allows her sentence to end there, walking past Theo and towards the exit like she assumes Chloe did too. She hardly registers Theo following her, attempting to call her attention once again.

She has to find Chloe. She has to let her know.

She walks down the steps eyes looking around wildly. She immediately sees that red hair she knows and loves and-

Fuck.

All Beca sees is blue and it is entirely because of Chloe Beale.

She’s frozen halfway down the steps, her grip on the railing tightening as she processes the seen before her. Chloe is swooped up in Chicago’s embrace and she clasps onto him confidently as they share a kiss.

The brunette’s stomach drops. Her heart feels like it’s been ripped out of its place. This is something she can’t say she’s ever experienced before.

Not with Jesse, not with anyone.

Her stomach seems to be carving a whole in itself, but Beca can’t seem to tear her eyes away from the sight in front of her. She feels sick to her stomach, but she can’t find it in her to walk away.

“Interesting,” she hears Theo say, but doesn’t make a move to acknowledge his words.

She hardly even registers the conversation they have; her ears are ringing and Chloe Beale is still in Chicago’s arms with her lips pressed against his and everything is crumbling around her.

It’s hard to find yellows when everything is covered in blue.

 

* * *

 

When she finally is able to walk away from it all - Theo included - she finds herself aimlessly wandering the streets of France as she hyperventilates.

She’s too late. Chloe had finally stopped waiting for her. She’s found someone else who could give her something Beca had always been too afraid to. Chicago waltzed in all cocky and confident and unashamedly giving Chloe Beale more attention than any other person on this entire tour.

(Not that Beca is surprised, she’d do the same if she wasn’t such a fucking nerd.)

There was a part of Beca that always questioned whether there was something _more_ when it came to Chloe. Of course, she hadn’t really had any best friends until the Bellas, but Chloe was always something else.

But then she’d written herself off as over analyzing everything and decided that no, there was nothing more. Chloe’s just her best friend.

And just when she’d finally put the pieces together and found enough courage to _tell_ Chloe she had done so, the redhead was already moving forward.

Fuck.

Somehow, Aubrey and Emily cross her path.

“Beca!” Emily greets, all full of energy and excitement like she always has been.

And Beca appreciates the normalcy, but she can’t find it in her to muster a smile back.

“Beca?” Aubrey asks, concern etched in her voice.

She looks up to find Aubrey’s worried expression and Emily’s eyebrows furrowed with a confused look. This is all it takes for her to come undone.

Aubrey somehow understands, pulling her into a hug and rubbing circles on her back.

Emily doesn’t quite understand, but she comes and hugs her too.

 

* * *

 

Brooklyn is cold and dreary when they return.

There is no promise of spring, but that’s typical of New York this time of year.

When Beca’s phone comes back to life after their too-long plane ride, it’s buzzing with emails and texts from Theo and other various members of DJ Khaled’s team. It’s all overwhelming and honestly Beca’s had a hole in her stomach since the previous night.

As soon as they arrive home, it only takes five minutes for Amy to collapse on her bed and pass out. Chloe laughs, dropping her luggage by the bed she and Beca share and Beca wishes it didn’t sound so melodic because it just _hurts_ to hear it.

“I think she’s got the right idea,” Chloe jokes, kicking off her shoes and crawling onto their bed. “Traveling has me exhausted. Come on, let’s nap.”

Beca glances down at her phone, another five emails popping up as she checks her screen. “Chloe, it’s only six.”

And she’d like to think she’s maintained a sense of normalcy around Chloe since the events of last night. Once they were reunited at the hotel, Beca had already taken three shots of tequila (which, _ew_ ) with Flo and was out of her mind enough to pretend she wasn’t shattering on the inside. In the early hours of the French morning they sat on the plane together as usual, and Chloe held her hand and murmured reassurance as they took off, knowing just how worked up Beca got during take off.

But Beca couldn’t sleep the whole way home. Not when Chloe kissing Chicago was seared into her memory.

“Don’t act like you’re not even a little tired,” the redhead says, adjusting herself comfortably on their bed. “I know you didn’t sleep.”

Beca wishes she wouldn’t say things like that because she and Chloe just _work_ in a way she doesn’t understand. But what’s the point when Chloe’s found someone else?

She’s about to come up with another lame argument when a yawn escapes her mouth and Chloe’s lips turn up into a smirk of satisfaction of being right.

“See?” she grins in a total _I-told-you-so_ way. “Now come sleep!”

And of course Beca does what she demands, because Beca _always_ gives in to Chloe Beale no matter what. Whether it’s those terrible rom-coms Chloe loves or a night of bar hopping after a particularly terrible day when all Beca wants to do is crawl into bed and hate the world, she’ll go along with it just to wipe that stupid puppy pout off of Chloe’s face and replace it with a bright smile.

So she slips her shoes off and tosses her jacket onto the chair in the kitchen before also crawling into their tiny shared bed that somehow fits them perfectly because Beca is so small and Chloe isn’t _that_ much taller.

However, instead of letting Chloe pull her in close and let an arm wrap around her, Beca’s back is immediately to the redhead and she chooses the far side of the bed instead of the middle because if she’s being honest, she might somehow implode if Chloe holds her like she always does.

If Chloe notices, she doesn’t say anything. She simply digs her head deeper into her pillow after a moment of stillness and mumbles a lazy “g’night” under her breath.

It takes Beca much longer to fall asleep.

Maybe it’s the jet lag.

Maybe it’s because Chloe Beale is on the opposite side of the bed and not pressed up against her.

 

* * *

 

A few hours later, Beca stirs. She’s not sure what time it is and part of her still thinks she’s dreaming, but she squints to see in the darkness.

She’s greeted by the sight of Chloe Beale, still in clothes from their flight, standing alone in the kitchen as she pours herself a cup of hot tea.

There’s a pang in the brunette’s chest because every part of this feels like _home_. At first, she lets herself soften at the sight, because even in the darkness Chloe is just so beautiful. Not even a second later the image of Chloe and Chicago appears in her brain and her face falls, knowing this sight is no longer hers alone.

She settles back into the bed, squeezing her eyes shut and praying she wakes up and doesn’t feel the hurt in her chest.

 

* * *

 

When Beca wakes up again, she’s completely disoriented.

For a moment she thinks she’s still in Europe and they’re still on the USO tour. She lets her eyes adjust to the darkness and realizes she’s back in Brooklyn when she hears Amy’s loud snoring before she squints at the nightstand where Chloe’s ladybug clock sits.

It’s somewhere between four or five in the morning; Beca can’t tell because she still has sleep in her eye. She shifts slightly, immediately stopping her movement when she feels a warm body pressed into her back. She also notices the arm slung loosely around her waist and the quiet breaths on her shoulder blade.

Chloe’s pressed up against her, holding her like she often does when they sleep. Beca isn’t surprised because this _always_ happens, but now everything is different. Now as Chloe holds her Beca is convinced it’s because she’s just a cuddler by nature and searches for the comfort Beca eventually gave her. It’s not at all because there’s something more there, something Beca hadn’t been able to put a finger on for years.

It’s not like that at all because Chloe has Chicago now.

Suddenly Chloe’s presence and touch is all too much. She jolts out of bed, stumbling as she searches for a pair of shoes to slip her feet into. She needs to get out of bed, out of the apartment, out of this tiny space she’s shared with Chloe for three years. Her actions don’t go unnoticed by the other woman because she stirs as Beca slides on the first pair of shoes she feels.

“Beca?” she asks groggily, jet lag still present and sleep only a thought away.

Beca freezes for a moment at the sound of her. She wonders if Chloe will think she’s dreaming and go back to sleep.

“Where are you going?” Chloe questions, voice a little more steady when she doesn’t get an answer.

Beca’s eyes widen, but she still keeps her back to Chloe. She can’t turn around right now. Not when she knows she’ll turn around to see Chloe, half asleep with an impossibly adorable quirked eyebrow and hint of a smile.

Her heart lurches at the thought of the image.

“I have to go,” she mumbles.

She isn’t even entirely sure that Chloe hears her, but she grabs her jacket she’d discarded when they returned to the apartment hastily before scurrying towards the door.

“Beca, where you going? What’s going on?”

Chloe sounds more awake now and Beca’s panic mode sets in. She flings the door open and takes off down the hall, not daring to look back behind her. She flies down the stairs of their apartment, knowing Chloe could easily corner her if she took the elevator. She doesn’t stop running until she’s burst through the exit and made down the next block.

She finally skids to a stop, bending over to place her hands on her knees as she pants into the cold Brooklyn air. Tears begin to well up in her eyes and she isn’t sure if it’s from the fact she just sprinted out of her apartment or because of everything in relation to Chloe Beale.

“Shit!” Beca hisses out when she catches her breath, furiously wiping at her eyes.

The tears spill over anyway and now she can’t help herself. They flow from her eyes freely no matter how hard she wipes at her face, and her chest is harshly rising and falling with the sharp sobs that escape her mouth. Beca leans her back against the brick wall of the building next to her for support, unable to stay upright.

She tries to blink a few times, but everything is blue and silenced.

She can’t say she’s ever felt this much pain in her chest before. She doesn’t understand how the mere touches or mere sound of Chloe’s voice are able to send her in a downwards spiral. Everything related to Chloe Beale makes Beca _hurt_ in a way she can’t explain.

How could she not see she was running out of time?

Why did she have to be so stupid?

She gives up on wiping her tears; they’ll keep coming regardless. Strings of expletives leave her mouth every few seconds as she tries her best to catch her breath. The wall is keeping her steady, keeping her from completely collapsing onto the sidewalk. Slowly, she slides down the brick wall pulling her knees in close and resting her chin on her knees.

“Beca?”

Beca’s breath hitches at the sound of that voice. Her head turns slightly from the direction she’d just run from and she sees Chloe a few yards away, wearing her fuzzy pink slippers and a jacket on top of her pajamas Beca guesses she must have changed into when she was making tea in the middle of the night. Her hair is haphazardly tied up into a bun with pieces sticking out.

It’s not until now that Beca realizes what a mess she must look like. She’s still in the clothes she’d traveled back to New York in. Her hair is probably a mess as a result of travel mixed in with sleep. She’s wearing the first pair of shoes she could get on. Tears have probably stained her face. She probably looks like a complete psycho on the streets of Brooklyn.

She quickly turns her head away, hoping Chloe gives up and turns back around.

But she’s known Chloe for seven years, and that’s just not like her at all.

In fact, as Beca tries to stop herself from crying and wipes at her face again, Chloe’s in a full out jog now - as best as she can in fuzzy slippers that are meant for only house wear. She’s close enough for Beca to hear her slight panting as she approaches and the brunette avoids eye contact, knowing that if she looks right into those expressive blue eyes she’ll come undone all over again.

Chloe slows down right in front of her, coming down onto her knees to reach Beca’s eye level. Beca immediately turns her eyes away, her jaw clenching in attempts to stop another sob from coming out.

“Becs,” Chloe murmurs in a soft tone.

It’s enough to get Beca’s breathing to slow down just a little bit. She hates that Chloe has this effect on her. She’s let all her walls down with Chloe over the past several years, walls that even Jesse couldn’t seem to break through. Everything about Chloe is comforting and easy, and that’s exactly what makes it all hurt so much now.

“What’s going on?” she asks carefully, trying to meet Beca’s eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Beca finally turns her head to meet Chloe’s gaze, and she sees the worry etched into the redhead’s features. Those beautiful blue eyes are focused solely on Beca, desperately trying to understand what’s happening to her best friend.

She tears her gaze away from Chloe’s face, instead focusing on one part of her robe just so she doesn’t have to maintain eye contact.

“It’s so stupid,” she mumbles, voice broken and worn from her crying. “I’m so stupid.”

A frown appears on Chloe’s face. “You’re not stupid,” she tells her as she brushes a strand of hair from Beca’s face, tucking it gently behind her ear before her hand comes to rest on Beca’s upper arm.

The intimacy of the moment makes Beca want to scream. She feels about a thousand things at once and isn’t sure which one to respond to first. Chloe’s extreme concern also receives a small pang in her chest.

“Beca, will you please tell me why you’re upset?” Chloe tries again when she doesn’t get a response.

And Chloe’s been nothing but patient and persistent with Beca since the day they met. She’s never shown judgement, never once made her feel bad for feeling any particular way. So Beca knows Chloe won’t force her to say anything. She’ll try as best as she can, but at the end of the day it’s Beca that always cracks. She always does when it comes to Chloe Beale.

And if she’s going to see blues for the rest of her life, Beca might as well lay it all out there now.

“It’s you,” she says in a hoarse voice barely above a whisper as she dares to look at Chloe again.

A mixture of horrified and confused meshes on Chloe’s features, and Beca realizes quickly that she could’ve said it in a much better way than that.

“No I didn’t- It’s not-” she stutters profusely, hand immediately grabbing Chloe’s free hand in hopes she understands. “I didn’t mean it like that. You didn’t- you didn’t _do_ anything.”

“Well, obviously I did if you can’t even sleep in the same bed as me,” the redhead frowns, hurt still painted in her eyes.

“No it’s not like-”

Beca lets out a long and frustrated sigh, thumb running along the back of Chloe’s hand. It’s a sense of comfort as she tries to piece her thoughts together coherently and carefully. Chloe seems to understand - although her brows are still furrowed - and watches carefully as Beca tries to work out what she wants to say.

“Everything with you is so easy,” Beca begins, her eyes focusing on her thumb as it continues to run back and forth the back of Chloe’s hand gently. She knows she has Chloe’s full attention and pushes herself to keep going.

“And I liked - _like_ ,” she quickly corrects. “-that. I like that I never had to question anything when it came to you. I know that I’ll wake up and there’s going to be a cup of coffee for me in the kitchen and you’ll be singing in the shower. I know that you’ll be waiting for me at home after a long day. I know we’ll fall asleep watching Netflix on most nights. I know when we go out for drinks we’ll both be stumbling home together giggling and making stupid jokes. I know that you’ll drag me around the city on weekends we’re both free, and sometimes you’re okay with us just hanging around the apartment being lazy. I know that you love every damn holiday and insist we celebrate them, and I know I’ll do it even if I pretend to hate it because, well, I’d do anything for you.”

With every word she speaks, Beca’s seeing flashes of yellow - spots in her life where Chloe Beale has been. It’s hard to find moments where she’s not.

Beca knows she’s rambling now, so she pauses and takes a short breath. She risks a glance up at Chloe out of curiosity, and she finds Chloe looking at her attentively as if she’s been hanging onto every word Beca’s said so far.

“I’ve never been good at _feelings_ and you know that,” she continues with a short laugh, eyeing their hands again. “So, um, this is really hard for me to say.”

Chloe gives her hand an encouraging squeeze, and Beca looks up again and sees assurance and support in Chloe’s expression, a small smile tugging at the redhead’s lips despite the fact she isn’t quite following Beca’s train of thought.

“When I’m with you Chlo, I’m home,” she admits, voice breaking as she says it. She forces herself to maintain eye contact. “Everything about you - home was never the Bella house or our cramped apartment - it’s you.”

Chloe’s features soften at Beca’s admission. Her brows unfurrow and her head tilts slightly, processing what Beca’s just said.

The sight is too much for Beca and she tears her eyes away, pulling her hand away at the same time. There’s a sharp pain in her chest because she knows what comes next.

“But,” she adds as she tries to clench her jaw and stop the tears from returning. “Everything’s different now.”

“Different how?” Chloe asks quietly.

She tries to meet Beca’s eyes, but the brunette squeezes them shut. She can’t see those pretty blues right now, not if she doesn’t want to completely break down again. She swallows the lump in her throat.

“I should’ve known earlier,” she tells her in a strained voice. “I was too dumb to realize it. I’m too late now.”

“Bec-”

“-and now I’m moving to Los Angeles and you’re going to vet school and-”

“ _Beca_ ,” Chloe tries again with a little more force.

It snaps Beca’s mouth shut. She jerks her head to face Chloe again, this time with tears in her eyes and an impossibly large lump in her throat. Her vision’s watery, but she knows those eyes like the back of her own hand.

“ _What_ are you trying to tell me, exactly?”

If Beca didn’t know any better, she’d think Chloe held a little amusement in her tone.

“Um,” she starts, looking up to the sky as she tries to blink her tears away. “I’ve maybe, sort of, _possibly_ had feelings for you this whole time we’ve been friends and I didn’t realize it until like right before we left for Europe.”

With her eyes still towards the sky, Beca misses the way Chloe’s lips begin to turn up into a grin.

“And like, I know this isn’t the best time or whatever, and maybe I’m just delusional because of jet lag and travel and the weird week we’ve had, so we can just...totally pretend this never-”

“Becs,” Chloe murmurs, slowly grabbing Beca’s chin and gently pulling it down so they’re face to face once again.

Beca’s stunned at the motion, eyes still watery and mind going into panic mode because she’s very _very_ close to Chloe and Chloe’s touching her and she doesn’t know what to do. Chloe’s hand then moves from her chin to the curve of her jaw, eyes watching Beca carefully.

“What are-”

Before she knows it, Chloe’s lips are on hers in a searing and captivating kiss. Beca’s stunned for a moment, but she melts into it quickly because _Chloe Beale is kissing her_ and it’s something she’s wanted for so long. Chloe’s lips are dry and slightly chapped from the cold and from dehydration due to travel, but Beca could care less because even at this ungodly hour on a cold sidewalk in Brooklyn, Chloe’s the sweetest thing she’s ever tasted.

Above them, the sky is a mix of early morning blue with soft yellows attempting to break through. People will soon crowd the streets of Brooklyn, hastily wanting to get  a start on their day.

This is not at all on either of their minds though.

As Chloe sighs into Beca’s lips, Beca notes that kissing Chloe is like coming home.

Chloe slowly pulls away, eyes still half closed when Beca opens her own. This image is something sacred to Beca. She wishes she could snap a picture so she’ll remember this look on Chloe forever.

“You were rambling,” Chloe informs her in a low voice.

Beca blinks. “Chicago.”

Chloe adopts an adorably confused look as she asks, “What about Chicago?”

“I saw you,” she tells Chloe, throat beginning to thicken again as the image comes to mind. “After the performance. You-and he- you were kissing.”

The redhead lets out a sigh, placing a strand of Beca’s hair behind her ear. “I keep kissing other people,” she begins, eyes solely on Beca. “and pretending they’re you.”

Beca’s eyes slightly widen at the statement. She isn’t quite sure how to respond, and she watches as Chloe almost giggles at the look she’s getting.

“And frankly,” Chloe continues, standing up and holding out her hand for Beca. Once Beca takes her hand she helps lift her up. “I don’t think anyone compares.”

Beca finds her footing, but Chloe still doesn’t let her hand go.

“So this whole time?” she asks, looking up at Chloe as the sky begins to introduce the morning above them.

Chloe smiles, slowly guiding Beca until her back is pressed against the brick wall. “You’re my favorite,” she says cheekily, that just-for-Beca smile on her lips. “Always.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Beca almost whines as she slowly wraps her arms around Chloe’s neck.

Chloe laughs, throwing her head back as the melodic sound fills Beca’s ears. Beca thinks she could hear this sound forever.

“I definitely tried,” the redhead answers, her lips capturing Beca's again.

 

* * *

 

There are boxes scattered everywhere in their already small apartment.

Beca is moving to Los Angeles at the end of the week.

Chloe will be starting vet school this August.

But Beca isn’t worried; they’ll be six hours away from each other while Chloe is in school and although it’s not ideal, Beca has a track record of doing anything when it comes to Chloe Beale.

And plus, it doesn’t suck at all that Chloe’s going to be taking up space in Beca’s Los Angeles apartment for the months in between.

(Amy had initially made a deal about no one paying rent, but they were quick to remind her she’s got millions of dollars with her name on it.

She is now on the search for the most luxurious New York condo she can afford.)

Beca tosses more of her things into a box - she’s got no organization tactic about this - and falls onto her and Chloe’s bed. She’s got only a few more days to finish, but for a small apartment shared between three people, she’s got way too many things to pack.

Chloe is fluttering around the kitchen, preparing herself a cup of tea as she always does. Beca watches her for a moment, how natural this sight is for her. She can’t imagine life without Chloe, and despite some minor setbacks, she doesn’t think she’ll ever have to again.

Before Chloe, all Beca used to see were blues.

But then Chloe burst in, friendly smile and persistent attitude.

If Chloe Beale was a color, she’d be yellow.

And it took some time, but Beca’s more than okay with seeing yellows. She likes the familiarity and comfort it brings. She likes the morning cuddles, the quiet kisses, the way Chloe’s eyes light up when her eyes land on Beca.

Beca’s kind of relieved she’s stopped seeing so many blues.

Chloe’s humming under her breath and Beca recognizes it as one of the songs from the demos Theo had sent over just a couple of days before. As Chloe stirs her tea, Beca’s insides warm at the sight. The light hits Chloe at just the right angle and she’s as bright and bubbly as ever. Beca can’t help but smile.

Chloe feels her staring and looks up, a lopsided smile on her face. “What?”

“Nothing.” Beca shakes her head. After a pause she adds, “I think I love you.”

Chloe’s lopsided smile turns into a full out grin. “Funny, I think I love you too.”

Home isn’t Brooklyn or her new apartment in Los Angeles. Home is Chloe Beale loving Beca in ways Beca never thought she could be loved.

**Author's Note:**

> hello! thank you for taking the time to read this piece of work. leave a comment below or come chat with me on tumblr at backtobasicbellas.


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